


Swift is the deer

by AlexFlex



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Nature can be gross, Young Legolas Greenleaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex
Summary: Galadriel sails away leaving a final gift for the elf-friend remaining in Middle Earth.Legolas' time as a fosterling in Rivendell prepared him for the pain he would find on this journey.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 25
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

And so the ships departed. The dawn colours lit the water and Gimli stood, watching the ringbearers sail away. His heavy hand rested gently on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam sniffed noisily, his handkerchief twisting in his hands, but for once did not attempt to apologise or be deferential. He just let the tears flow down his face. He trembled under Gimli’s hand. Gandalf, the Lady, Frodo and Bilbo. Others were on the vessel, but those four were the only ones Gimli had eyes for. Bilbo looked as frail as the skeleton of a leaf which has been blown into a deep cave and left to rest for years; the slightest new gust will turn it to dust. Gimli wondered whether he would survive the voyage.

Gimli knew it was the sunrise lighting the waters but he also knew it was the Lady, lighting Middle Earth for the last time as she sailed West.

The activity on the dock flowed around them unheeded. Merry and Pippin stood silently beside Sam, no jests or horseplay today. They all watched the ship until it became one of the ripples on the horizon.

Sam had made sure Frodo had a sack of potatoes to plant when he reached ‘foreign parts’ and some to eat on the journey. The elves had carried little with them to the ships. Legolas had said they did not hoard possessions which the passage of time would turn to dust.

No elves had come to the docks to bid those departing farewell. They feared awakening the sea-longing in themselves and the few who remained in Middle Earth stayed far from the sea breezes and the tang of salt in the air.

Pippin had asked outright if Aragorn’s queen did not travel ‘because she was with child, seeing as she was no longer a proper elf’. For once Aragorn’s eyes had not crinkled in amusement at things blurted out. Arwen had chosen to cast her lot among Men, but even she did not dare take the risk of being called by the sea and remained in Gondor. With her were her brothers and Legolas. For the sake of politics Aragorn had not been able to say farewell at the ships. His council would not have approved of his Queen, an elf, remaining in the city as the figure with the highest status, together with her brothers, Legolas, a prince of elves and her elvish attendants. They would have called it an elvish plot, a coup.

From the docks Sam, Merry and Pippin had turned to make the journey back to the Shire, guarded by a company of Rangers, now appointed Lords in their own right. The Steward of Gondor and his retinue had accompanied several high-ranking officials to represent Aragorn as witnesses to the departure of the elves and they now escorted Gimli as he made his way to Gondor. Gimli held in his hands the small wooden box he had been given by the Lady.

In this stone city of Men Legolas stood beside him, the terraced gardens below tribute to the work the elves under his charge had already begun. The cool evening breezes carried the dull hum of conversation from within as the court fêted their King and beloved Steward together before Faramir returned to Ithilien.

“When I returned to Lorien, I thought she might have forgotten me or that her light may have been dimmed, but I saw her splendour was unchanged.” Gimli’s hand rested above his heart as she spoke, and Legolas knew that was where he secreted the velvet pouch in which he kept the boon granted by the Lady.

His chest constricted, unconsciously Legolas put his hand over his own heart. He knew the race of Durin sometimes loved in vain, and to know Gimli’s heart was given to the Lady was almost a physical pain to him.

The feasting had ended and the twin sons of Elrond beckoned them within, to the king’s private apartments.

“Our grandmother said she had given you something, master Gimli.”

Legolas glanced at him. Gimli shook his head.

“Another gift,” one of the twins clarified.

Gimli nodded. “Aye. I thought to open it when I was Under the Mountain.”

One twin smiled. “She said she thought you might say something like that. There are two letters within. One for you and one for Legolas. She asked that you read them together here in Minas Tirith.”

Gimli glanced at Legolas. His face showed no prior knowledge of this.

The other added, “She asked also that there be no elves or dwarves nearby, apart from her grandchildren and that you not be disturbed.”

“Shall we go onto the queen’s balcony?” Legolas suggested?

“Indoors,” said Elladan.


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas’ mother had been bitten by a spider when Legolas was still very young, and she had been forced to sail West when the poison could not be completely cleansed. His father had seemed to lose a part of himself and Legolas had been sent to Imladris to foster with the Lord Elrond.

As the youngest in the Greenwood he had been treated like a precious and delicate flower. In Rivendell Elrohir and Elladan had boisterously romped and wrestled with him. Tentatively, he joined in with their games. They chased each other through the trees and collided into him. For the first time he had fallen from a tree and he sustained an injury to his arm. It was broken. The twins were contrite but did not seem overly dismayed. Elrond noticed the reluctance this gangly young prince now showed towards even leaving the house and one evening sat with him.

“Legolas, what ails you?” Elrond had asked.

Legolas bit his tongue. “Are you blind!” is what he had wanted to shout, but instead indicated towards his bandaged arm with a small gesture of his chin.

“Surely you are not still in pain, child. Do you have need of more milk of the poppy?”

Legolas shook his head and simply sighed in exasperation.

Elrond waited. And waited. Until eventually Legolas spoke.

“It’s dangerous,” he whispered in his strange Silvan accent. “I could get hurt. Again.”

Several weeks later Elrond called his children to him after the Dawn Singing.

“Follow me.” He gestured to Legolas to join them.

The bright summer sun warmed them as they walked deeper and deeper into the forest. Legolas was not afraid for here there were no spiders, and the bows of Elladan and Elrohir always struck true.

They came at last to a clearing where a young fawn stood beneath the dappled sunlight, and its mother stood beside it. From within his robes Elrond produced a flask with what smelt like milk from a nanny goat.

“Her mother cannot produce enough milk.” He gave the bottle to Arwen. She approached and allowed her scent to reach the fawn’s mother. The doe startled a few times then stood aside. The fawn greedily drank the milk from the container.

“Keep the bottle below the level of her eyes, so that she may swallow without choking.” Arwen gathered her skirts and knelt beside the fawn.

“She will need to be fed every one or two hours of daylight. You will milk the goats then take a bottle with you. You will need to learn how to find her in the forest. With time, she may come and seek you out. You will come in pairs. One to feed the fawn, one to stand guard.” Elrond was addressing all of them.

“She will need the bottle for around ten weeks. Arrange it between yourselves.” He handed a second bottle to Elladan. Then Elrond turned and walked back towards Rivendell.

Legolas sat in the clearing fascinated, and throughout the day Elladan and Elrohir replaced the bottles of milk while Arwen tracked and fed the fawn and taught him how to mark their trail with marks made from fallen twigs, and rocks and even knots of thread tied to a low-hanging branch.

That evening Legolas came to him. “Elrond. Those creatures are disgusting.”

“Ah, yes.” Elrond smiled. “Newborn deer are not able to urinate or defecate on their own. The doe will lick them to stimulate them to release their waste. The doe will then consume the urine and faeces released so the odours will not attract predators.”*

Legolas grimaced in distaste.

Elrond was silent for a moment then continued. “But Legolas, is there not still beauty in the creature? Grace in the way the doe runs, courage in the way the fawn tries to keep up?”

In the universal language of the young Legolas shrugged his shoulders and kicked at a stone on the ground, giving no more of an answer.

Legolas had assumed the brothers would want to work together and that he would go with Arwen. After the Dawn Singing the next day Elladan had taken him by the hand. “I’ve already milked the goat. Let’s go.”

Legolas fed her first then they spent time walking in the forest until it was time for the fawn to take the second bottle. Legolas noticed they stuck to the ground and there was no roughhousing. Was it so as not so startle the fawn?

They returned to the house late in the afternoon, crossing paths with Arwen and Elrohir who held two full bottles. “They’re by the stream, near the fallen willow,” Elladan called out as they walked.

After the second day, for the sake of practicality they set up a small camp in the forest. They tethered five nanny goats beside a patch of clover. “They are not like horses, Legolas. Goats will not do as they are bid. They must be persuaded. They will run away in the night if not tethered.”

This forest seemed to have a strange protection, unlike his own home, and no dark creatures roamed here. Arwen taught him how to light a fire, gathering kindling and selecting fallen twigs to create a smokeless blaze. Of course he had _seen_ it being done before, but he was never permitted to do so himself. Elladan stood watch as Legolas dug the latrine, and Elrohir showed him how to gut a rabbit without the guts spilling over a clean tunic. Elladan then showed him how to boil up ashes and fat and then clean a garment in a flowing stream.

The days passed. Elrohir removed the bandage from his arm despite his protests. “You are healed now, no need to be a baby and walk around with a dirty bandage for no reason.” The skin felt pale and tender but by the afternoon it was forgotten.

Arwen walked with him. She reminded him of his own mother, but he could not say how as they looked nothing alike. She corrected his hold on a bow. She set different leaves as targets, marking them with the juice of a berry. More and more impossible shots she asked him to take. “That one, you can see it marked red, when the wind blows you can see it between those two trees.”

One evening, the four of them lay in their campsite. Their cloaks served as bedrolls and they looked up at the stars as they peeked through the canopy of trees.

“Where is your mother?”  
He felt the atmosphere change. Arwen stiffened.

Elrohir spoke. “She was hurt. She died.” He was silent for a while then continued. “She is now on the western shores of Valinor. In the Halls of Mandos.”

“My mother was hurt. But she did not die.”

Arwen sat up and looked at him in the firelight. “You will see her again when the time comes.”

Elladan spoke, almost as if to himself. “She was killed by orcs. Now we cleanse the world of orcs.”

“I try to hunt the spiders but they will not let me.”

Legolas then asked why they were not hunting orcs right now and they replied that they were here with him.

So the summer passed. The fawn grew strong and was taking fewer feeds. One day she did not return to the clearing as had been her wont. In a panic Legolas ran through the woods with the twins at his heels. He dreaded finding the creature dead, having been consumed by a predator. There she was, by the stream, peacefully grazing by her mother. The dappled coat had now been replaced with a glossy brown coat. She looked like any other deer but he could recognise her. He was not quite sure how. Elladan and Elrohir looked just like each other, but now he could not imagine not knowing who was who.

They packed up their camp and led the goats back to Imladris. Legolas resumed his lessons with Elrond, practicing his runes and learning the healing uses of plants.

The seasons changed and the twins went back out on patrol.

At table one evening, Legolas froze in shock. Venison. His stomach roiled and he fled the table, his chair clattering to the ground, the back smashed.

Elrond found him curled in an alcove. His ears red with fury, breathing like a bull.

“You are angry with me.” Elrond spoke calmly and Legolas felt he needed to have the calm smacked off his face. However, his father had drilled into him that he was a Prince of the Greenwood and must comport himself as one when in Imladris.

“What if it - it is Lightfoot?”

“It could be.” Elrond sat on the ground beside the prince. “Each animal we consume once had a life. Each plant we consume, is one which no longer delights in the sun, or tells us the secrets of the breeze. That is why we give thanks after we hunt, when we harvest and before we eat. You hear the trees speak, yet their branches give us heat and warmth. They provide us with furniture. We give thanks. This is life Legolas. It comes with loss.” Elrond’s eyes spoke and told that they knew loss.

 _"Swift is the deer; brief is its life; it must delight in today; for it has no tomorrow."_ Elrond recited the words as if to himself.

Early the next morning, without questioning him Glorifindel came with him into the forest. He spent the whole day searching and still Glorifindel did not question him. He told stories of old and sang songs of times long past. He did not correct Legolas when it took three attempts to get the fire started. He did not step in to help skin the rabbit when Legolas made a hole in the pelt. He did not take over when it became clear they were going in circles. Finally, as the sun was setting Legolas saw her. She was in a group and as he approached in excitement, the deer all pricked up their ears and bounded away. Glorifindel nodded at him and Legolas beamed.

They returned. Venison was not served again. He rode out with Arwen and spent many hours learning how to speak to his horse. How to leap over fallen trees and how to race the wind. One morning they approached the clearing and froze. Arwen nodded and confirmed what he hardly believed he was seeing. Lightfoot was walking towards them with a fawn of her own. Delighted, Legolas leapt off his horse. Like an old friend he embraced the deer and she allowed him to come close to her fawn. Without warning she then startled back out of the clearing and he was left alone.

The lessons in history continued. He learnt how the Silvans had allowed the Sindar to rule over them. He started to question how they came to ‘allow’ it. Arwen showed him how to walk over the snow and not to sink into it. “You just have to ask,” she explained. His favourite trees grew stronger and sturdier and he learnt which mushrooms would kill a Man and which fungus would form a healing poultice.

He had visits from courtiers sent by his father. “Not yet,” they said. He eavesdropped on them talking to Elrond. “Fading,” they said.

He found Lightfoot dead in the snow. Elrond had taken him to the grove where she lay.

“We can stand apart from life and not be hurt, but also take no joy. Or we can live fully and embrace the pain that will come.”

Legolas had wept and Elrond had held him, murmuring nonsense words into his hair as if he were still a little elfling.

Glorifindel tired him out with sword drills but he could never find the correct rhythm to it and was clumsy, straining his wrist when they sparred. Elladan and Elrohir returned with tales of Men and of orcs.

The courtiers returned. “It is time.”

The gloom in the Greenwood was even heavier. Even he could not deny it was Mirkwood and the gloom seemed to have settled in his father’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *That’s a real National Geographic fact. Yes, disgusting.
> 
> Comment if you can. We are in lockdown and a comment would cheer me up.


	3. Chapter 3

Now, they sat in Legolas’ room. Aragorn had prepared special chambers for when Dwarves and Hobbits came to visit and the furniture in those rooms was not ridiculously oversized as it was elsewhere but Legolas found them cramped. In Legolas’ suite of rooms there was a low table set with a cushion for Legolas and a chair for Gimli and they could see each other eye-to-eye, on a level.

Reverently Gimli had opened the small box Galadriel had given to him before she departed. He handed Legolas the letter in elvish script, then opened the note which had his name in Khuzul script. His heart sank in disappointment. There were no words of wisdom. No final farewell. All it said was “drink and know.”

He glanced at Legolas who had received a much longer missive. The elf looked pale. They both glanced down at the tiny crystal vial within the case.

“She said we must drink,” said Legolas. “Me first, then you. She says we will then see.”

Legolas put his soft lips to the glass then passed it to Gimli who took a swig.

They sat still and quiet for several minutes.

Nothing happened. He felt no different. He saw no vision.

_‘Well that was a waste of time,’_ Legolas tried to say. But what came out was “I’m glad to have any excuse to be alone with you, Gimli.”

Legolas looked startled by his own words.

 _‘What are you playing at, laddie?’_ Gimli snorted. But what he spoke was “I love the sound of your voice, even when you are talking nonsense.”

He tried to speak again. “Maybe they are right and my Lady really is a witch.”

“I never thought I would hear you say a word against bloody Galadriel. ‘Galadriel’ this and ‘my lady’ that. I wish you would shut up about her because it breaks my heart anew every time you say her name.” Legolas clapped his hands over his mouth in horror.

Gimli stilled. Were his senses affected? What was he hearing? But he felt like himself. He felt the stone floor and could sense the grooves and composition of the rocks through his boots. He could smell the fire crackling in the hearth and everything seemed ordinary. He did not feel dizzy or disconnected from reality. Everything seemed normal. Apart from the words. A new fear crept into his mind. He tried to say. _‘What are you talking about. Why do you speak of love, lad. Are you drunk?’_

“Legolas. Do you love the Lady?”

 _‘Gimli, I think this vial is having a strange effect. I don’t want to upset you. I never meant to speak those words.’_ “I love you, Gimli. Not only with the love of friendship and shield brothers. With a burning love. You have my heart.”

Gimli did not stop to think. He stood and cupped Legolas’ face then kissed him softly on the brow. He kissed his hair, then his eyebrows. He kissed his nose, then his ears. He brushed his fingers across his cheekbones. “I love your face, Legolas. Every time you wrinkle your nose, I want to kiss it. Every time your ears turn pink for no reason I want to kiss them. Your sweet face, I always want to kiss it.” His eyes held a question and Legolas nodded. He pressed their lips softly together. It was catastrophic. Gimli felt as if he had been hit in the face with a battle hammer. He stumbled backwards then stared at Legolas, dazed.

“Gimli, I never thought I would ever feel the touch of your lips against mine. I thought your heart belonged to Galadriel.”

“My esteem, lad. The lady is one I honour above all others. But Legolas, my heart has been yours since you sang to me in Lothlorien, to comfort me in my distress.”

“I thought I would spend the years of your life watching you from afar, then watch you crumble back into stone.” Legolas now held him close.

“I thought you could never love me, Legolas. I have seen what Arwen and her kin face due to her love. I have seen the pain and guilt that Aragorn faces for what the queen loses for love of him. I thought you would never want that. I thought you would never want my heart so I poured all my praise and devotion into my craft, to my lady, to my kin.”

“Wed me now, Gimli.”

The next day they did not emerge from the room. The day after that they met the queen in her receiving room after the Dawn Singing.

“Arwen,” Legolas spoke. “Please may we send ravens. We wish to make the announcement that we are wed. May I also request that your steward prepare supplies for a trip to Erebor that we may undergo the Dwarven marriage trials.”

Arwen embraced them both and Elladan and Elrohir smiled as if they were not hardened warriors, but happy boys. Gimli had never quite known how to feel about them. They had always seemed cold and aloof to him. Dangerous even. But so had Legolas at first, so he put aside his reservations and allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

Arwen’s smile was tinged with sadness.

At the commotion, Aragorn had emerged. He took in the scene. Aragorn’s clear gaze met theirs and they were the Three Hunters once more.

“Finally,” he smiled. Then he took Arwen’s hand and led her back into their inner chamber and firmly closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I changed the name of this from 'Elixir' to 'Swift is the deer'.


End file.
